The Golden Mare
by TheRowlingPierceWriter
Summary: Set when Daine is 17, at Pirate's Swoop. A new enemy attacks, and a friend from the Divine Realms becomes an ally. Don't worry, this isn't the end. You will have your action story yet!
1. Waiting...

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Chapter One: The Golden Mare

A/N: Hope you like it, and Happy Thanksgiving to each and every author/reader/organizer at FFN! Disclaimer: Sadly, nothing belongs to me except the golden mare. 

It was a cool, spring day. The Rider trainees were camped at Pirate's Swoop, along with their commander, Queen Thayet, their wake-up call otherwise known as Sarge, the Queen's protector Buri, and horsemistress Onua. Lady of the Swoop, Sir Alanna of Trebond and Olau, was housing the entourage for the rainy months of March and April. Training was hard and relentless, just as it had always been. Today, after nearly a fortnight of nonstop Rider instruction, a break in the usual labor was the awaited coming of their honored and respected assistant horsemistress, Daine Sarrasri. 

In the stables, eleven-year-old Thom, son of the Lioness, was grooming a blood-bay gelding, under the watchful eye of his close friend the Princess Kalasin. 

"You're missing spots, Thom." She told him, scowling. "What would _she_ think?" Grumbling, Thom went over the mighty hocks of the gelding once more. 

"D'you really think she'll notice if-

Kally cut him off. "I know she will. This is her only mount at the Swoop, the first thing she'll do when she gets here is look him over." Shaking coal-black hair behind her regally, she grabbed the comb from Thom's hand and swiftly continued to brush the horse herself. 

Over an expansive hill, thief-gone-noble George Cooper conversed soberly with the Captain of the Swoop's guards, Josua. 

"Numair said Daine sensed 'em days ago. 'S why she's rushin' so to get here. 'O course, milady and the children don't know that. Don't want any panic."

"But, George, won't Alanna be-peeved-that she wasn't informed? She is one of our strongest warriors."

"The lass has her hands full with the kids right now. If she needs to find out, I'll tell her."

"With all due respect, baron, this is more than we've ever seen-

"When Daine gets here, we'll be fine. Don't worry the Lioness, Josua. Promise me ye won't."

Resigned, the Captain promised. When Daine arrives, they thought. She can help. 

"Renalt! Post trot! _Post trot_, I said!" Sarge's powerful bellow carried over the dusty paddock where Rider trainees exercised. The foolhardy young country boy, Renalt, straightened and began to post, fearing the wrath of their muscular instructor. 

"What if we were at war, trainee Renalt?" Onua admonished. "We can't afford a Rider with saddle sores!" A glum silence lapsed over the group, as fifteen or so trainees trotted, cantered, and drilled every other gait under the name of the Goddess. 

"I don't like this." Sarge confided in an undertone to the horsemistress, seated next to him on horseback. Sarge's steel black eyes were hidden under furrowed brows as he consulted Onua. 

"Don't speak of it." She replied tightly. She gathered the reins of her dun and rode away from Sarge, who sighed heavily. 

Scant hours later, three-fourths of the population of Pirate's Swoop was lined up by the outer gates, impatiently anticipating the entrance of Veralidaine Sarrasri. 


	2. Enemys Reawoken

Chapter Two: The Golden Mare

A/N: Merry Christmas to each and every author/reader/organizer at FFN!

Disclaimer: Sadly, nothing belongs to me except the golden mare and Renalt. 

"Presenting black robe mage Numair Salmalin, with his former student the Wildmage, Veralidaine Sarrasri."

The announcer's voice rang harsh in Daine's tired ears. The stocky man that voiced into a megaphone stood beside her and was considerably dwarfed by Daine's height atop a smoky mare. To her left Numair sat, stooped with fatigue, on his own mount. It had been a rushed, urgent journey to Pirate's Swoop, and Numair refused to even tell her why they were hurrying. Daine felt her eyelids begin to droop, listening to the nearby haze of cheers that accompanied her arrival. It would be all right, she thought groggily, if she just took a little nap…the reason for their coming couldn't be that important, whatever it was, or they would have spoken to her about it by now. She sank into a deeper level of stupor before jerking awake with a start. The presence was back.

"Do we have an estimate?" 

"Nearly."

"Keep me posted."

"Will do."

George Cooper, baron of the Swoop, sat heavily down into an oak chair, sighing audibly. His flyaway brown hair stuck out at odd angles; he bore a five o'clock shadow on his chin. The normally orderly stacks of papers on his plain desk were strewn. He had just finished a conference with his captain of guards, Josua, and it had not been a pleasant one. With the level of danger increasing around his fief he felt compelled to do something. Whatever it was, though, it would have to wait until he talked to Daine.

"There isn't _time_!" A hoarse voice from the hallway outside of George's office filled his ears.

"Veralidaine Sarra-

"Don't you 'Veralidaine' me!"

George barely had time to stand up before two figures-one muscled yet petite, the other slim and stork-like-charged into the room. The woman was red with anger, features twisted with impatience and frustration. Her muscles were tight under the clamping hold of the lanky man, whose eyes were flashing brightly as he held onto her wrist forcefully. 

"We must _move_!" The woman cried, and her outburst of ire caused her voice to sound deep and throaty, just the way a tiger's does. The mage Numair Salmalin released his grip on her suddenly, as if she were poisonous. He strode toward George mightily, rage bursting from him in the form of white-and-blue fire. 

"Numair, Daine, calm down." The Wildmage shook her head with gusto, her fingernails lengthening and sharpening into the talons of a hawk over her furor. Numair spat a hiss that was inaudible from the protection of his large hand covering his mouth. 

With more force, George commanded: "_sit_." Years of reigning as King of the Theives had caused him to acquire quite a scary aura when need be, and both Daine and Numair took a seat in symmetrical wooden chairs when told. 

"What are they, Daine?" Numair rasped, fighting to control himself. "My power is not…I couldn't tell…" He glanced worriedly at her, a frown creeping upon his lean face. 

Daine's expression was no more joyous. "H-Hurroks." She admitted, looking away. The mammoth, winged horses, known as Hurroks, were bloodthirsty and ferocious. They weren't talking about some Odysseus's Pegasus here. 

"Hurroks?" George turned white. During the Immortals War, Hurroks had been a main ally of the enemy King Ozorne, but they were all destroyed under the command of chief God Mithros…. "How can it be?" He weakly mumbled. Clearing his throat unsteadily, he demanded, "Why didn't you know before? We could have used more forewarning, d'you know how crazy I am with shock? We're nowhere near ready for such an attack!"

"George! She was tired; we just squeezed a fortnight's journey into one week, for the Horse Lord's sake! My magic is not wild, only with the outermost reaches of it could I detect these immortals, and that was solely because there are so many!" Numair instantly defended Daine, who sat back in her chair, exhausted. Her eyes were heavily lidded; her previous anger had worn at her fatigued body. 

"You're right. I'm sorry, Daine. I shouldn't have blown up at you." The large, bronzed man apologized. He held out a hand to Daine, who struggled to sit up and shake it. 

"That's not right." Daine croaked. "Even if I was tired or whatnot, I still should have sensed those Hurroks. They're all over, George. Positioned around the Swoop. They're waiting for something, I think. They're awfully quiet, although that isn't an excuse for my not sensing them either. There is another reason. It scares me, because I don't know what that reason is." She had spoken through waves of drowsiness, and it felt as though her mouth was moving, words were pouring out-and yet, she had no idea what she was saying. She slumped back in her chair, feeling as though she were a wet T-shirt that had been wrung out, except instead of water dripping from her it was energy. Having dished out all the information she could hold, and mustered the courage to do so, she collapsed onto the back of her oak chair and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. 


	3. The Golden Mare Arrives, and No Angel by...

The Golden Mare, Part 3  
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Tamora Pierce except Renalt and The Golden Mare   
(mine), and the No Angel lyrics (Dido's)  
Happy Cinco de Mayo!  
  
Renalt was the first to meet The Golden Mare. It began as he walked lazily   
toward the paddock with his roan gelding, passing by the main entrance to the Swoop   
as he did so. At this precise moment, a "great white light" flashed on Renalt's right, "in   
fron' of the gate," he explained. That "great white light" turned out to be The Golden   
Mare, who, ironically enough, was human in appearance.  
~Hello~ She greeted Renalt amiably. The male members of Josua's guard had   
been able to squeeze the information out of Renalt that he had not replied to the   
greeting because The Golden Mare was so ravishingly beautiful, not because she did at   
all frighten him.   
~I am The Golden Mare~ Renalt, staring, his pale blue eyes wide with wonder,   
had again opted for silence. Growing impatient, the women, The Golden Mare, spoke for   
a third time.  
~Do you not speak the common tongue?~ She had asked. At this point, Renalt   
realized something very wrong: The Golden Mare, whoever she was, spoke mind-to-  
mind. Renalt had never heard of any mortal communicating through thought.   
"What are you?" He had questioned bluntly, even a bit curtly. The Golden Mare   
huffed.  
~So you do speak. But you have bad manners, even for a boy~ Renalt,   
abashed, apologized. Onua chose this time to enter the scene, having noticed that   
Renalt was late in stabling his pony.   
"Renalt, what must I say to make you…" Onua trailed off, her expression   
changing from that of anger to one of amazement. Any malignity she might have been   
feeling for Renalt then vanished. Stuttering, she addressed The Golden Mare: "My lady,"   
she began. The Golden Mare snorted; in what Onua thought in retrospect was quite a   
horsy way.   
~I am no lady. I am The Golden Mare. Who is this young delinquent that you   
treat as your own?~   
Onua jerked. Without thinking, she said, "He's a Rider trainee. I'm the horse   
mistress, and he's tardy. I…" Onua cut short again, surprised. Why would a woman-a   
woman so astonishingly lovely as this, the one who called herself The Golden Mare-  
converse mind-to-mind? Onua didn't know what to say.  
~Some mysterious are best left alone until the time comes to reveal them~ The   
Golden Mare suggested. Onua, quite taken aback, quelled any further interrogations.  
"Do you wish to room at The Pirate's Swoop? I am sure the Lady of the Swoop   
will welcome you." Onua finally said. Renalt, beside her, still stood in shock of The   
Golden Mare's comely appearance.   
~Why else would I be here?~ The Golden Mare answered. The Mare chose this   
moment to throw back her hair-golden, Onua saw-in a show of indignity  
"I see." Onua said, perplexed. "Allow me to alert the Baron and Lady."  
"A what?" Daine's unpleasantly puzzled tone echoed around the walls of the   
Swoop. She viewed those around her-a disgruntled George, Numair, and Onua-with   
disgust. "You're joking." She accused. A mortal using mind-speak! She thought,   
scornfully. Daine looked quickly to Numair.  
"I'm afraid it's the truth, little mage." He admitted, patting Daine's hand in a   
comforting way.  
"Calm yourself, Daine. You'll need all energy for the Hurroks, remember?" Onua   
advised. Daine was far from thinking of the Hurroks just then.  
"But-it doesn't make sense." Daine deflated.  
"I know it doesn't make sense," George agreed. "But we have to accept it. As   
soon as we can get a delegation party together, someone must negotiate with those   
Hurroks."   
Daine sat in misery. How could they understand? Twice in one month now, Daine   
had not received signals of Immortals when they were so obviously there.   
"Would you like to meet The Mare, Daine?" Onua offered. Daine nodded,   
although at heart she felt contempt for whoever this mare really was.   
Numair and Daine were led to the guest wing of Pirate's Swoop, to a large room,   
which turned out to be The Golden Mare's temporary sitting room.  
Taking Daine's hand, Numair whispered to her, "Take heart, Daine." She nodded   
stiffly in reply.   
The Golden Mare opened her conversation with Daine and Numair shortly.   
~What business do you have that concerns me?~ Daine instantly let her guard up   
against this already-attacking stranger.  
Daine began to reiterate, but Numair stopped her.  
"May I introduce myself and my companion? I am Numair Salmalin, and this is   
the Wildmage."  
~Greetings, people-of-fire~ The Mare said. Daine, confused, pondered what the   
Mare meant by 'people-of-fire', until she came upon an answer.  
"People-of-fire…those with the gift." Daine said, for her benefit and for Numair's.   
The Golden Mare talked as though talking to a small child.  
~Very good~ Numair took no offense at The Mare's sarcastic front, but Daine   
sent the resplendent woman an evil look.  
"Why have you come to the Swoop?" Numair inquired. For the first time since   
her arrival, The Golden Mare did not voice herself curtly.   
~I have work to do here~ She explained. Daine coughed.   
"Is there anything we can call you…besides The Golden Mare?" He asked   
innocently.  
~If you must~ She told him. Numair, confused, asked plaintively:  
"Then what shall we call you?"  
~Whatever you wish. Names are of no importance to me~ She said.  
Daine snorted. I know what I'd like to call you, she thought. Numair strained to   
remain polite. "How do you like Belle? It is a neighboring country's way of saying,   
'beautiful'." Daine did not think that Numair was trying to flatter The Golden Mare by   
suggesting this, because, by anyone's standards, The Golden Mare was splendid.  
~If the only adjective you can think of to describe me with is beautiful, than I   
suppose I must agree~ The Mare, now called Belle, said. Numair smiled positively.   
Daine amused herself by thinking of slimy things to put in Belle's slippers. She was   
interrupted by Numair's hand on her arm, guiding her out of Belle's sitting room and into   
the hallway. Daine was only too happy to comply.  
  
  
  
Daine sat up in the middle of the night, grumpy. A persistent tickle in the back of   
her throat was pushing her quite forcefully to fetch a drink of water. Standing up from   
her bed-place in a paddock full of sleeping ponies, Daine groggily headed indoors.   
Walking down the hall toward the kitchen, she happened to pass by Belle's rooms.   
Intrigued by the sound of music suddenly perusing her mind, she peeked into Belle's   
sitting room.   
~If you gave me just a coin…for every time we said goodbye…Well, I'd be rich   
beyond my dreams… I'm sorry for my weary life~  
There sat Belle, obviously singing, but silent to the human ear. She swayed from   
side to side, her reigning hair swishing about like a cloud of gold, her body liquid-like in   
its movements. As much as Daine didn't like Belle, Daine knew that Belle was graceful.   
Her mind-voice, unsurprisingly, rang out enticingly and somehow hauntingly in Daine's   
head.   
~I know I'm not perfect but I can smile~ Belle continued. Daine, mesmerized,   
stopped in her tracks to watch Belle. She still hadn't noticed that Daine stood outside   
her door. ~And I hope that you see this behind my tired eyes~ On and on Belle went,   
through a chorus that seemed to Daine to be, "I'm no angel, but please don't think I   
won't try and try/I'm no angel, but does that mean that I can't live my life/I'm no angel,   
but please don't think that I can't cry/I'm no angel, but does that mean that I won't fly".   
Daine went back to bed that night without her glass of water, the tickle in her throat   
forgotten and a promise in her heart that the song would be, too.  
  
  
~What is this?~ Belle's ungrateful voice pervaded Daine, and, turning to face the   
beautiful stranger, she replied:  
"It's mush. What did you expect?" Daine tried fruitlessly to keep contempt out of   
her tone, but she was sure that Belle had picked up on it, for, the next minute, the   
women had sniffed and broke off the conversation.  
"You're meeting the guards and George today." Numair explained to Belle from   
Daine's right. Belle stared straight ahead as Numair spoke to her, sultry. Soon enough,   
Numair gave up. 


End file.
